


Dragon Age 100 Challenge

by Anon_Omis



Series: Dragon Age 100 Challenge [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Graphic Violence, Hate, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3623268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anon_Omis/pseuds/Anon_Omis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the Dragon Age 100 challenge. #1, Beginning. Just a drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

“Fucking die already!” Ketian yelled at the burning bandit corpse. The fireball hadn’t been necessary given the fact that Fenris had already run the Bandit through with his blade, but Ketian felt the need to watch them burn. Dead wasn’t dead enough.

“Maker forsaken-“

“Hawke.” Fenris stood off to the side, arms hanging by his side as he watched his lover fume.

“Nug humping-“

“Hawke.” Fenris again, his voice louder as he tried to get her attention.

“Blighted bastards-“

“KETIAN!”

Hawke startled as she looked to Fenris, eyes wide as she tried to steady her breathing. It was rare that Fenris ever used her first name and suddenly she could not find her voice.

“Hawke,” Fenris began again, his voice softer as he looked to the mage. “I know you’re upset. Kirkwall was our home and we have to leave, but we’ve both left somewhere before. Think of it as a new beginning, we can find a new home, together. Wherever you want.”

Hawke strapped her staff in place and frowned as she kicked a nearby rock. “I am sick of beginnings, Fenris. We had to run so much when I was young because of the Templars, and I thought we were finally done running when we were in Lothering. But no, we had to run again, and I convinced myself that Kirkwall was it, we wouldn’t have to run anymore.”

She huffed and lowered herself to the ground, arms hugging her knees to her chest. Fenris sat beside her, one arm wrapped around her shoulders as he pulled her into his side.

“When I was named Champion I thought we were finally done running. With the influence that came with the title I could keep my family safe. We had an estate, we had the money. Even with _everything_ we had my family is still dead. They’re all gone. So now you and I are running, to Maker knows where, and our friends couldn’t even come along. It is too dangerous to be with me.”

Fenris didn’t speak, he couldn’t remember the pain of losing family. But he did care for the woman at his side and would do whatever he could to help. “But think Hawke, they are done running, they’re at peace now. I believe they were happy in the end.”

A ghost of a smile played over Ketian’s lips when she looked up to the elf beside her, and she was convinced at that moment that so long as he was by her side she could make it through anything. “I’ve decided where I want to go.”

Fenris quirked a brow down at her in question.

“Let’s go hunt down the Tevinter slavers we’ve been hearing about.”


	2. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of the Dragon Age 100 Challenge, #2 Love.

She loved the way he looked at her: as if she were the star that would navigate him home.

She loved the way he said her name: as if those two simple syllables eased all his worries and pain.

She loved the way he reminded her that she was capable of anything.

She loved the way he overcame his Lyrium addition: one day at a time.

She loved the way he spent ten minutes every morning styling his hair.

She loved the way his hair curled at night while he slept.

She loved the way he brushed a soft kiss across her lips every morning they shared a bed even if he thought she was asleep.

She loved the way he kissed her neck, and how it still caused her to go weak in the knees.

She loved the way he trained the troops: with everything he had and more.

She loved the way he still made her feel beautiful even if she was covered in dirt and blood.

She loved the way he furrowed his brown in thought as he planned out the best course of action.

She loved the way he looked outside when he trained without a shirt on.

She loved the way he snorted when he found something particularly funny.

She loved the way he rubbed the back of his neck when he was embarrassed.

She loved the way he dotted his I’s, crossed his T’s, and signed his name.

But most of all she loved him.


	3. Hate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #3 of the Dragon Age 100 Challenge - Hate.
> 
> Warning: Graphic Violence in this chapter.

Cullen sighed, having finally decided to call it a night. The walk from the office to his and the Inquisitors chambers seemed exceptionally long, perhaps because of how weary he felt. His legs ached, his back ached, his shoulders were cramping from leaning over reports all night, and most of all, his head _ached._ He was ever the good soldier though, he would bear it and push through, as always. It was with relief that he pushed on the door leading from the great hall to his rooms, though relief quickly turned into uncertainty – the door was bolted from the inside.

Cullen reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, he hadn’t angered his wife, at least not that he knew of. They had enjoyed a pleasant evening meal together, and he had stayed with her until she’d fallen asleep. He had been careful not to wake her, pressing a gentle kiss to her brow and another to her rounded belly before he left to resume his work.

He pushed on the door once more just to make sure, and same as before, it did not open. Shoulders slumped as he sighed, something he had been doing a lot of lately, and he turned around to ask the guards who were stationed in the hall if they knew anything. The problem was, however, that there were no guards, when there certainly should have been.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as worry set in.

He banged on the door, loudly, hoping the sound would carry up into the room and wake Nika. He banged harder when there was no answer. Worry transformed to a painful knot in his stomach when he heard his wife scream.

Cullen kicked the door with all his strength, the jolt shaking his bones and rattling his teeth. He heard another scream, _his name_ , and he kicked the door again, the wood groaning as it began to splinter around the bolt. The sound of a struggle was closer, no longer in their rooms he suspected but in the walkway. He heard a grunt of pain, a deep voice, followed by a yell, his wife again.

Cullen stepped back and took a deep breath, the edges of his vision red. If someone was going to hurt his wife, his unborn child, Maker be damned if they wouldn’t have to go through him first. Cullen steeled himself as he ran forward, his shoulder connecting with the door as his full weight pressed into it. The wood around the bolt snapped and the door swung open.

His wife stood at the base of the stairs near her attacker, her face contorted in rage. She kicked her attacker away with a surprising strength as she held onto the railing for support. Cullen took over from there. His only saw red at this point, and briefly wondered if this was how it felt to be trained as a berserker.

He rushed forward and grabbed the attacker from behind; one hand gripping his arm, the other around his neck as she sung them around, bashing the attackers face into the stone wall. He let go as the man slumped down to the floor, but Cullen wasn’t through.

As a warrior Cullen was always trained to keep his head in any conflict, no matter how large or small, and never allow his personal feelings to dictate his behavior. But right now he _hated_ the man lying on the ground so much he could taste it.

Cullen climbed onto the attacker, pinning him to the ground as a bare fist connected with his jaw. Cullen didn’t flinch as blood splattered against his face. Another punch, and another, _Cullen…_ the man below him ceased his struggling, unconscious.

A small part of Cullen knew he needed to stop, to leave this person alive for questioning, but at that point he was beyond logic. His heart was beating loudly in his ears as his fist connected again, _Cullen stop,_ the voice was familiar in its femininity, another punch. He was breathing hard, teeth clenched as he fought to rein in his emotions, his fist pulled back as he hesitated. _Cullen, stop._

His wife placed a hand on his fist, her fingers brushing along his bruised and bloody knuckles. Cullen instantly snapped out of his rage at her touch, chest heaving with his labored breathing as he stood and took in the sight of her. Face covered in blood from a cut above her eyebrow, while the sight of that angered him he knew any cut there would bleed profusely. His eyes traveled down to her arm, blood dripping down onto the floor from a deep cut. He then took in her posture, she was hunched forward, a hand pressing into her low back.

Cullen felt an overwhelming guilt. She was hurt, and he had not seen to her needs. Cullen stepped closer, one arm wrapping under her arms, the other under her knees as he eased her into his arms and made for the infirmary. He placed a kiss to her temple, lips only leaving her skin to order a patrol to collect the prisoner and clean up the damage.


	4. Dark

It was Nika and Cullen’s second day back to their duties after their two week post wedding vacation. When he had retired to their chambers the night before his mood had been sour, though when asked why Cullen refused to answer.

When she woke the next morning it was still dark out, yet the spot beside her was cold. She looked around in confusion for her husband before she heard it; down in the court yard she could hear his familiar baritone, shouting. Did he have the troops out already?

Nika dressed for the day, yawning as she walked through the great hall. The cooks hadn’t even begun their baking yet. _How early was it_?

Cullen’s voice had been growing louder the closer she got to the court yard, eyes widening when she finally saw them. He had the entire Inquisition Army outside doing physical training drills, voice barking out orders at the men and women. Up, down, up, down, back, forward, down, run, down. They hadn’t even finished one transition when he would call them to move again.

Nika stood off to the side, watching her husband, curious exactly what had happened to make him go this hard on the troops. PT was done five days a week, however usually at a more reasonable hour – and quite often led by his lieutenants.

When Cullen finally spotted Nika he ordered the troops to do begins laps, their groans audible as they went into a formation and began cadence. She couldn’t help but smile at the pout on his face, wanting to kiss the furrow of his brow.

Nika cupped his cheek, thumb lightly caressing the stubble on his jaw. “What’s wrong, Cullen?”

Cullen’s frown became more pronounced as he narrowed his eyes. “They were calling me the blushing bride.” He muttered.

Nika snapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, causing Cullen to frown more. It would be impossible for him to frown any further in her opinion. “Why are they calling you that?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, blushing. She hoped that he never stopped blushing for the rest of their days – it was quite charming. “Because you proposed to me, and uh, my… predisposition towards blushing.”

Nika did laugh this time and it wasn’t long before Cullen’s frown turned into a reluctant smile. “Well, we can’t have that, can we? Just do me a favor, don’t be _too_ hard on them. We are newlyweds after all, and I would like my bed warm at night.”

A last kiss before she returned to Skyhold, smiling all day as she heard him continue to bark orders. How did he not lose his voice? It was dark by the time he returned that night, though his step was much lighter and he was smiling as he pushed his wife down onto the bed, pinning her body beneath his, remembering a comment about liking a warm bed at night.


	5. Light

Cullen had been so angry when Nika had passed away, worse, had had felt betrayed. She had still been so young; their daughter had not yet reached her coming of age and their son had not even graduated from his training sword yet.

Now it would be up to him to be father, mother, Commander and Inquisitor until their daughter was old enough to assume the latter responsibility. The workload he could handle; doing it without his wife, his rock, his best friend, _that_ was what he was not prepared for.

Call it selfish, but Cullen had always planned to be the first to pass away. He had consumed Lyrium for years; he had suffered through the withdrawals, undergone torture and suffered the nightmares. Since the day the rift had been closed Cullen had never entertained the idea that she would die first. Could he do this alone? Maker, he hoped so.

She had been so young, not even a gray hair on her head yet. She wouldn't be there to see their children grow up, marry, start families of their own. She wouldn't see Thedas continue to thrive under the second chance they had all been given. That _she_ had given them.

As time passed, Cullen had begun to feel disgusted with himself. For years he had harbored anger, fear and depression, though he had done well to present a strong front to his children and the public. Only those closest to him had known how he really felt. How much had he missed out on because of his grief? Was this how Nika would have behaved had he passed away first? No. He knew she would not have. She would have grieved openly before finding comfort in the fact that he was at peace.

Once Cullen accepted that Nika didn't leave him of her own will, or with anything he wasn't capable of handling he visited his wife's grave for the first time late one evening when the residents of Skyhold had retired for the night.

Her grave had been set up in the gardens. Nika had always spent her free time there gardening, reading, having picnics with him and their children, and playing chess under the gazebo. Her grave had been set between a row of bushes, her headstone framed with elfroot and crystal grace.

Cullen knelt down at her grave, leaning his forehead against her headstone.

"Nika," he whispered, swallowing hard at the lump that had formed in his throat. He wanted to apologize and beg her forgiveness for his stubbornness. He had intended to tell her about their children, their friends, anything and everything, but all he could do was sob. He cried for some time as he leaned against her headstone, using it for support. When his tears finally stopped he shook his head, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry, and I love you so much, I always have and I always will." His voice broke as he ran his fingers along her name that had been carved into the stone:

 

Nika Rutherford

Inquisitor

Herald of Andraste

Hero of Thedas

 

Since then Cullen visited her grave nightly. Some nights he would talk for hours, other nights he would just sit there and watch the stars. If he were unable to visit because his duties had taken him from Skyhold he would write letters and read them to her when he returned.

As the years passed his stories changed. Their daughter had come of age and assumed all responsibilities of Inquisitor. Their son came of age. Both of their children were now married. He now had more gray hairs than blonde. Their son had risen in the ranks of the Inquisition's Army and was now the commander. Their children had children, and being a grandfather was amazing.

Cullen had retired when his son took the mantle of Commander. He was still called in as advisor to help when his guidance was needed, but he had trained his children well and it was rare that they sought him out in any official capacity. His days were spent playing with his grand children, and despite the fact that he was becoming more weary with each passing year he always felt young while chasing them around. Eventually his grand children had begun their studies and Cullen was reminded of how little there was for him to do.

Cullen had never thought he would live such a full life, but here he was with a head full of gray hair and skin marked from age and the sun. His children had converted a room off the gardens for him so he could easily get to the chantry and his wife's grave – walking was now a task for him.

Cullen eased himself down beside his wife’s grave, brushing his fingers over her name as he always did. Cullen gasped, a weight suddenly pressing against his chest, taking a breath impossible. He leaned against the headstone, suddenly feeling at ease. As his eyes shut he could smell citrus, like that of the oil his wife used to in her bathwater. As his final breath escaped he could feel her fingers against his cheek. Cullen passed away with a smile on his lips because his wife had returned to light his path through the darkness to the Maker’s side, where they could finally spend eternity together.


	6. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #6 of the DA100 Challenge.

Nika stood in her chambers, dressed in the colors of the Inquisition as she waited to be called upon. Today she would marry Cullen - her best friend and the love of her life, before their closest friends and family. She smiled, remembering the proposal so many months ago.

Nika had been in Cullen’s office trying to find a report he had asked her to sign off on, only it wasn’t on top of his desk like he’d told her. Naturally she had begun to dig through his drawers, thumbing through page after page of reports until she stumbled upon a small velvet pouch. Nika picked it up, curious as she opened it only to reveal a small band with a green stone set into it – a betrothal ring. Her heart was pounding as she tied the pouch back up and replaced it, burying it under parchment before making her way quickly through his office and back to her chambers where she had hid for the rest of the day.

A week passed, and while she had many dealing with Cullen he never one hinted at, much less asked her about marriage. Even if he were just waiting for the right moment she was amazed by how calm and collected he seemed, especially amazing given that it was not usual for him to be flustered in her presence.

After one week without the talk Nika invited him to her chambers for a private dinner. A table was set, a few candles lit to add to the mood. They had spoken of many things from Inquisition business to what they had been doing in their moments of free time. When the meal was finished and wine drank, he still did not bring up the subject of marriage. It was driving Nika crazy.

“I love you Cullen, you know that, right?” She asked with a smile. The way Cullen’s smile lit up his face would forever be seared into her memory; amber eyes glowing in the candle light, his eyes crinkling at the corners. _I love you too, always._ He had replied, still nothing about marriage and she couldn’t bear it any longer.

Standing up Nika walked to his side of the table and knelt down on one knee, taking one of his hands in her own. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford,” She began, smile growing at the confusion that set into his face. “When we met you were my advisor and the Commander of my forces, but with time you have become my rock, my foundation, my everything. I do not know if I could have accomplished all that I have without your guidance, without you at my side.” Nika cleared her throat, swallowing around the lump of emotion. “Would you do me the honor of making me your wife?”

Nika was unsure of what she had expected, but a lingering silence was not it. She was becoming very nervous until Cullen laughed, shaking his head. “I’m a fool, aren’t I?” He asked before standing, tugging her up with him. She watched as he reached into a small pocket within his mantle, pulling out the ring she had found the week before. “I uh...” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while now, but now you’ve asked me.”

Nika grinned as she met his gaze. “Is that a yes, Cullen?” She laughed when he nodded, laughter turning into a hum of approval when he kissed her, sliding the ring onto her finger.

It was a very pleasant memory, and now they would have untold years to make more.

 


	7. Innocence

Word had been sent ahead by raven that the Inquisitor and her party had been ambushed – injuries had been sustained but overall everyone was in good health. That didn’t stop Cullen from worrying every minute of the day until the horns blew to signal the arrival of the Inquisitor back to Skyhold.

Cullen walked as fast as his legs would carry him through the great hall and down into the courtyard just missing the Inquisitor, his lover, turn her horse into the stables. Long strides carried him quickly through the crowd, groups parting to allow him passage for fear of being run over otherwise.

“Nika.” Cullen breathed her name when he finally found her handing over the reins of her steed to a stable hand, pulling her into his arms within a blink of an eye as he kissed the top of her head, her lips, her nose, hands cupping her face as he pulled back to reassure himself she was safe.

“The reports… they said you were injured?” He held her at arm’s length to get a better view, she was a mess; boots caked in mud, her leathers were filthy, and at her side there was a large gash in the armor with a few small puncture holes, dried blood caking the armor. Her hands, neck and face also had smudges of mud, dirt and blood, her hair plastered to her face from days of travel and sweat.

“Can we talk in private? I need to change, bathe, and sleep for a week...” She laughed and Cullen nodded, smiling as they walked in companionable silence to her rooms. When they entered the fireplace was already lit, and a tub had been filled with steaming water – it was known that when Nika returned from a mission that a hot bath would be needed. Cullen smiled down at Nika, placing another soft kiss to her lips before he helped her out from her armor.

His fingers were quick with the ties and buckles, piece by piece being carefully set on the ground – it would need to be taken to the undercroft for repairs. Once the armor was on the ground Cullen helped her out of her leathers, carefully as her side was still tender from the healing injury. Soon she was seated in the steaming water, her sigh of pleasure music to his ears.

As much as he missed the Inquisitor, and as much as he wanted to show her just _how much_ he had missed her, he could tell that she needed to rest. So his intentions remained innocent as he poured water over her head, soaping her hair as his fingers gently massaged her scalp before he soaped her neck, shoulders and down until he finished with her feet.

Cullen smiled to himself as he looked at her, half asleep in the tub – he had never met a more beautiful person, or a more beautiful soul. He loved this woman more than he loved himself, and he would do everything within his power to keep her safe. He assisted her out of the tub before helping her to dry off, hugging her body to his as he ran the towel over her hair.

Soon she was lying in bed and his fingers were trailing lightly over the angry red marks on her side – one cut from a blade and puncture wounds from arrows, expertly mended by Solas there would be only the smallest scars in a few week’s time. Cullen was about to ask what had happened when he heard a soft snore, laughing he pulled the sheets over her body and placed a kiss to her forehead. Questions could wait until later.

It was still early in the day, he _should_ have returned to reports but instead Cullen stripped out of his armor until he was just in his under tunic and breeches and joined the Inquisitor in bed, laying atop the blankets as he curled his body around hers. A nap had suddenly sounded quite nice.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I hope you enjoy.


End file.
